Trouble At The Badger's Snatch

One was involved in a rather alarming experience this morning.

It was a misty morning in the village and the myriad of moisture droplets were hanging over the grounds here at Crusty Hall. They looked saturated, sad and as though the colour had been drained from them by Mother Nature’s vaccum cleaner.

Chu Me had arisen early and tended to the fires in the principle rooms. Exiting the rear of the residence, he made his way to the side of the stables where he kept his hens. His little eyes had opened to the size of small saucers when he saw the handsome harvest of eggs his girls had produced. Collecting them in his cotton handkerchief, he thanked the hens and patted the head of his cock and made his way back to the house.

Half an hour later, one was sat in the breakfast room enjoying the fayre that he had collected; dunking one’s soldiers into the golden creamy yolks and watching Nicky No-one-can-love-me-more-than-me Campbell on the piss-poor Big Question. One’s faithful houseboy was munching away at the opposite end of the table, having to witness the usual barrage of Sunday morning abuse;

“Why an earth doesn’t he let the woman finish her sentence, for goodness sake?!”

“Could you be and more smarmy, Nicky dear?!”

“Why on earth doesn’t his face move when he speaks? Have you had bollocks … Botox (thank you, Chu Me) injected to stiffen it up, dear?”

(Poppets may conclude from this that dear Nicky is not Crusty’s favourite … you would be correct in your conclusions.)

Anyhoo … just as one was nibbling the end of one’s last soldier, the telephone rang. Chu Me had egg all over his fingers so one picked up the receiver:

“You may speak.” One greeted.

It was my dear friend Fanny O’Dour , landlady of the village pub. The Badger’s Snatch. As she spoke one sensed an unusual tone in her voice.

“Crusty, I’m beside myself. I know I’m being stupid but …. Oh, it’s nothing. Forget it … it’s just …”

“Goodness Fanny dear, what on earth is the matter?!” one exclaimed.

“I think Willy may be having an affair!”

With that, and before one could utter another word, she whimpered like an unloved puppy and hung up.

“Chu Me! The Bentley. We have an emergency at the Snatch”

Like a gorgeous, small but well-formed panther he sprang towards the door and headed for GUSSET 1. Within minutes we were racing out of the drive and on our way to the village.

The village was deserted, the residents clearly opting to stay indoors in the horrendous weather, save for Mr. Craddick who had ventured out in his pyjamas once more. He was sitting on the bench on the village green, protected from the elements only by a dark blue kagool and his copy of the Evening Chronicle.

Chu Me pulled into the entrance of the carpark to the Badger’s Snatch and as the Bentley purred to the rear of the premises, one could see Willy yanking off his kegs and helping the drayman empty his load.

“Good morning, Willy dear.” One said as one sashayed past the two. Willy replied and the drayman tipped his hat.

Inside, one found fanny in the kitchen with red, bloodshot eyes and tear–soaked cheeks: it wasn’t a good look. She ran toward me with her arms open.

As she began to wrap her arms around one’s frame I held her head firmly in one’s hands … for no other reason than to avoid the moisture of her tears from coming into contact with the rather stunning Stella McCartney jacket one was wearing.

Over a cafetiere of strong coffee and a packet of chocolate hobnobs we discussed the situation. It appears Willy has not been acting within normal parameters.

“He’s behaving very secretive and he can’t look me in the eye. Haven’t you noticed anything strange in his behaviour, Crusty?” She enquired.

“Well … one did see him in the bakers, earlier in the week. He’s always had a fancy for Pat Tissery’s crusty baps and one did think it suspect when he seemed to be taking an unusually long time sniffing the yeasty aroma of her bloomers. Having said that, she had just taken them out of the oven. No, Fanny, it’s nonsense! You must cast the idea from your head immediately; he wouldn’t do anything so horrid to you and certainly not with anyone in the village. There is clearly an innocent explanation to all this.”

A further cup of coffee and two and a half hobnobs later, one had managed to calm her down and reassure her that she was just overreacting to something that didn’t exist. Nevertheless, because of all the excitement, Crusty felt she, herself, was on the edge.

Walking back to the Bentley and, as Chu Me opened the door for one to exit, Willy was coming back in after helping the drayman shoot off a little quicker.

He give a brief smile before one thrust one’s knee into his downstairs area. He hit the floor moaning in agony.

“What was that for?” He moaned.

“You’re a disgrace Willy. Poor Fanny is distraught with all your secret shenanigans. Well, you have been exposed. She knows of your affair!”

“Affair? Affair! What affair? I can’t look her in the eye because I’m taking her to Paris for Valentine’s day. You know I can’t keep anything from her.”

One giggled gleefully, “How marvellous!” one cried, clapping one’s hands, “Although why on earth you would want to take her to a place like that, one has no idea. You’ll both have a wonderful time. ”

Half way across the carpark one was still giggling with excitement; one turned and still seeing Willy’s head wedged in the bottom of the door shouted, “And make sure you pack ice on those, dear. You’ll need to be in full working order for your romantic break.”

“Chu Me? Our work here is done. Let us make haste to Crusty Hall.”